


Lead the Way, Make Me Play

by foxwedding



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Homophobic Language, Needles, Witchcraft, witch Klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwedding/pseuds/foxwedding
Summary: Klaus holds a seance to contact their dearly departed father.  Bad news ensues.Featuring witch-boy Klaus in an averted-apocalypse AU.





	Lead the Way, Make Me Play

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Marionette by Keep Shelley in Athens.
> 
> I wanted to write a fic where Klaus's powers are manifested with more traditional witchcraft because I'm a sucker for a good aesthetic.
> 
> Also, I wanted to write a fic where they're all trying to work together and heal, and it goes even worse than expected.

It was rare for Luther to call on Klaus for a séance. During their adolescence, it had always been Alison and Ben whining at him until he reluctantly acquiesced- all those times had been for the sole purpose of entertainment. Lately, the unbearable clarity of sobriety had compelled Klaus to revisit his old trainings, his books, the bruja at the botanica four blocks from the academy. Returning to his craft was bittersweet: In some ways, it felt like defeat and reverting to the life he'd spent years running from. In other ways, it felt like coming home.

His siblings looked on curiously as he slowly immersed himself back into practice. The common areas of the manor became populated with candles, dishes of salt near the doorways, little piles of pennies in crevices. Old, hard-covered occult anthologies were atop every side-table, stuffed with bookmarks and post-its. The hallway just outside of Klaus's room smelled perpetually of incense.

Earlier in the week, Luther had knocked on his bedroom door with quick taps. When he'd entered, his face had been drawn and tight with anxiety. Typically, Klaus would have refused to contact their father on principal, but the fact that Luther had come to _Klaus_ , of all people, for help was, quite frankly, alarming. So, he agreed, but with no small degree of reservation.

Tonight, Klaus was stark naked in his front of his mirror, swinging his hips in time to crooning synth and slow, heavy bass beats. He carefully rimmed his eyes with kohl, pleased with the steadiness that sobriety lent his hand. Next, he applied a dark plum color to his lips. Both of the cosmetics had been stolen from the home of a posh lady-ghost he'd once conjured. Since then, they'd become his go-to war paint for all séances. He blotted his mouth with a tissue, blowing himself a kiss in the mirror.

From a glass vial, he swiped frankincense oil liberally behind his ears and onto his wrists. It made him an offering to the veil and would ease his transition into the spectral dimension. Apparently, ghosts loved resinous fragrance. The scent never failed to propel Klaus into the right headspace for conjuring. 

He was freshly bathed, having soaked for the better part of an hour in hot water scattered with lavender and angelica root. At the last minute, he'd thrown in a handful of sea salt, just for good measure. No such thing as too much protection.

Klaus stepped into a pair of clean leggings, bouncing his head in time with the ambient music. He shrugged into a thin grey shirt, worn and rolling at the hems. Lastly, he lifted an obsidian pendant from a small wooden box tucked behind a tray of oils and perfumes. Suspended on a long, delicate chain, it draped from his collarbones quite nicely. It too was the spoil of a previous conjuring. 

A particularly melodic rift caught his ear. He twisted his hips and extended his arms up above his head. There was nothing like preparing for a séance to put him into his own body- even if the intended guest left a lot to be desired. Still, his body was slowing waking in anticipation.

Next, he lit charcoal tablets in the four corners of his room, tossing copal and small cedar fronds into the metal bowls of smoldering ash. A large tattered Persian rug that typically covered a majority of the floorboards was unceremoniously kicked into a folded mass at the foot of his bed. Freshly revealed was a large white circle, painted back when Klaus had been about thirteen. It was unadorned, safe for four small notches that marked the four cardinal coordinates and a small 'x' to mark the precise center of the circle.

Atop that 'x', he placed an enormous black candle, about a third if it's column burnt through. At the base, he arranged seven 1989-minted pennies, their polished copper winking. Around this, a thin circle of rock salt crystals. 

He could hear crackling as the green cedar fronds caught flame, small plumes of dark smoke permeating the room. Klaus propped a window open in response. Under the sill, there was a small electric kettle plugged into a socket, brewing a sachet of dried mugwort, lemongrass, rose petal, and a _healthy_ dose of wormwood. In a neat line on the sill, were seven small espresso cups. Klaus leaned over them to light a cigarette, exhaling into the warm night air.

The barest hint of a breeze brushed his face. This was his favorite season to conjure- the summer nights were hot and muggy, and the fragrant smoke clung to his damp skin. Beyond the building, the distant sounds of the city could be heard, even above the incessant chirping of crickets. The sky was the deepest indigo, approaching midnight.

A chorus of muttering and footfalls preceded a small on knock on his door. Klaus tamped out his smoke on the side of building right outside the window and let it fall into the garden below. He surveyed the room as he crossed it, looking out for anything potentially incriminating, lest he repeat the horrific experience of Diego stumbling across his vibrating butt plug.

He opened the door to the crowd of his siblings huddling around the door frame.

"You better have all just showered. Do not bring your bullshit into this holiest of spaces." Klaus made pointed eye contact with Luther and Diego. Luther held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Diego snorted. "Holiest of spaces? Klaus, I've seen you piss out of the window after shot-gunning one too many beers."

Klaus nodded, "Yes, some spiritual undertakings require intensely spiritual rituals, Diego. You wouldn't understand."

He ushered his six siblings into his room, reveling in the way Diego and Five's gazes darted around nervously. Ever the pragmatic, Five had always been put off by all that was non-scientific. Klaus knew that certain elements of his powers exceeded that which could be explained by modern physics, and that it scared his brother shitless. Diego, on the other hand, was just wigged out by the spooky aesthetic. Of the rest of his siblings, Vanya and Alison never seemed to be fazed by any of Klaus's spiritual antics, and Ben straight up couldn't be bothered enough to care. Klaus figured that, once you were already dead, the rituals surrounding death were no longer emotionally significant. Luther, bless him, simply looked around curiously, trying to ensure that his large body didn't knock into any of the smoking bowls of herbs.

"Alright assholes," Klaus began, "Sit around the circle, we're about to make some fucking ghost stories." He gestured impatiently to the center of the room and flitted over to where the tea was steeping. Klaus dropped a star anise into each cup before pouring the brew. It would do fuck-all for the taste, but at least it would look nice.

He crammed all the tiny teas onto a large hand mirror that he used to do lines off of. Carrying the tray to his siblings, he instructed them to each take a cup.

"The fuck is in it?" Five asked dubiously.

"Nothing illegal," Klaus replied. "Although, it's going to taste like there might be."

Diego knocked his back, as if taking a shot. Almost immediately he was spluttering, covering his mouth with one hand when he gagged once. Beside him, Vanya and Alison were taking methodically sips in between breaths, grimacing with each swallow. Five was still gazing into his cup with distain and Luther pinched his nose while taking long pulls. Ben didn't drink his, because well. He couldn't. 

"I forgot how fucking disgusting this shit was," Alison choked out, about halfway through her tiny cup.

Five glanced at her with surprise. "You've all done this before?"

There was a sudden pause in the collective sipping. All Klaus's siblings, bar Five, looked at each other quickly. It was Vanya that finally spoke up.

"We, um. Used to do these séances after you disappeared," she swallowed before continuing. "We were trying to figure out if you were. Um. Well," she shrugged sadly as realization dawned on Five's face. Suddenly, his thirteen-year-old face looked every bit of his fifty-eight years. 

Klaus looked away and distracted himself by lighting all the requisite candles. There were about a dozen of them around the room. Once he'd completed this, he flicked the light switch, plunging them all into dim candlelight. There was the sound of heaving as Five evidently swallowed all his tea in one go. He glared at Klaus, expression suggesting he'd been utterly betrayed.

Klaus shrugged. "Rules of the game, baby."

"Oh yeah?" Five growled back immediately, his eyes watering from the repugnance of the taste. "I see _you_ still haven't had yours."

"Nope," Klaus sighed, and then reached back, sliding an unopened pack of sewing needles and tin of bandaids off of the nightstand. Next to him, Diego shifted so that he sat facing away from the circle.

"The fuck are those for." Five's tone was flat, but his expression betrayed anxiety.

Klaus passed the packet to Luther, who tore open the plastic and selected a needle for himself, before passing it on to Alison to do the same. Five's gaze tracked the packet as it circled around, before landing in his own lap.

Klaus spoke up. "Five. Take one. I need a bit of blood from everyone." 

Five's eyes bugged out. "Why the every-loving-fuck do you need blood?"

Klaus smiled, and he could feel that it was bit manic around the edges. "Look, you don't have to. But you won't be able to see Dad otherwise. You've got to give something to get something. I don't make the rules, but you don't get something for nothing."

This appeared to make sense to Five, who relaxed into a nervous chuckle.

"No free lunches, eh?" He nodded his head towards Diego, seated between the two of them. "What about him?"

"I usually do it for him," Klaus shrugged with a lazy grin, reaching across to hand his cup of tea and the tin of bandaids to Luther. 

Klaus watched as their Number One pricked a finger with practiced efficiency, squeezing a single drop of bright, crimson blood into the tea cup. Next, was Alison. She stuck her finger in her mouth as soon as she was done, reaching for the tin of bandages that Luther passed over. Vanya frowned, needing a couple tries to push the needle through the callouses of her violin-hardened fingers. Then, she held the cup up to Ben's face, who blew onto it as if cooling it down. Klaus could see the tea becoming ruddy and cloudy with each new addition. He grimaced in anticipation of the taste. Lovely.

Five took the cup with slow, careful hands. He set it down in front of him, one hand posed over the rim, the other holding the needle with purpose. He frowned down at the set up, and Klaus took pity. Five didn't like to do new things incorrectly.

"Just the side of your fingertip," he advised. "A quick jab should do it." Next to him, Diego gave a whimper that transformed into a groan of exasperation. Klaus patted his brother's upper arm, giving the firm flesh a reassuring squeeze. That, and he was coping a feel. Sue him.

Five nodded at Klaus's instruction without looking up. Finally, he closed his eyes, took a sharp inhale, and quickly pushed the needle into his flesh. With a shaking hand, he waited as a full bead blossomed and dropped into the liquid below. He swallowed, and then pushed the cup across the floor to Klaus.

Klaus turned to Diego, pulling his brother's hand into his own lap, his thumb running back and forth soothingly over the palm. Diego looked supremely irritated. Klaus made sure to hold eye contact with him as he pressed his needle into the rough flesh of Diego's thumb with gentle firmness. His brother hissed through his teeth and his pupils jumped in diameter. Klaus felt a brief flash of self-hatred as he held Diego's hand over the tea, and then smoothed a bandaid over the digit. 

The blood was a ruddy cloud swirling about the amber tea. Klaus looked down into the cup. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of the other shit he'd put in his body, but it was still vastly unpleasant.

"Bottoms up, bitches," he muttered into the room, and knocked the tea back like a shot. The lukewarm taste of watery copper, in combination with the horrific bitterness of the woodworm, was enough to make Klaus lightheaded as he focused on keeping it down. They'd done this ritual more times than he could remember, but the instinct to hurl had never quite been curbed. He breathed through it.

"Alright. Who's got a picture?" Klaus's voice was hoarse, the bite of the herbs still tingling all the way down his throat.

Diego shifted back to face the center, while pulling a folded piece of news print from his back pocket.

Klaus pushed himself to his knees, taking the proffered effigy and unfolding it with nimble fingers. He snorted. It was from a character piece written up about their father after he'd first introduced the academy to the world. Klaus suspected Diego had pilfered the framed copy in their father's study. He shuffled to the center of the circle, lighting the thin paper on the flame of the central candle, and dropping it into a small metal bowl. What collected was about two pinches of ash, which he set down to let cool.

He sat back on his heels. The night sounded of crackling flame, summer crickets from outside, and the collective quiet breathing and shuffling of his siblings as they watched him work.

"This is a _really_ bad idea." Klaus sighed and dragged both palms down his face.

"Yep." That was Ben, crossed legged, leaning back against the nightstand, both hands in his jacket pockets.

Luther frowned at this news. "I mean, what's the worst-case scenario?" He asked cautiously, the tilt of his head suggesting genuine befuddlement.

Klaus gave a quick, high laugh that was more of a bark. "Uh, he shows up?"

"Hear, hear," Diego snorted in agreement, cracking his knuckles idly.

Five piped up. "Do these-," he waved a hand in the air dismissively, "-séances usually work? Do spirits, like, appear?"

"Hell yeah, baby." Klaus chirped with a wide grin. "Once, Ben and me? We called on Freddie Mercury. Thought we could chat, you know, pan-to-pan."

Ben scoffed. "It was during a withdrawl," he informed Five. "He told Klaus to get his shit together. Then he asked if we had a cat. We didn't, so he bounced."

"Yeah," Klaus swooned fondly, as if he hadn't literally been snubbed by his idol.

"Oh, and Ella Fitzgerald- remember?" Alison added, snapping her fingers as the memory came back to her. "God, we really used to get so bored."

"No shit?" Five seemed impressed. "It'll be strange to talk to the old man again."

Diego cut in, redirected the group's attention to Luther. "So, what's the plan here? Are you just going to confront him? Because, and I absolutely _love_ to break this to you, you're not going to get a straight answer out of him."

Luther sighed and chewed at the corner of his lip. "I don't think so either," he spoke slowly, "but, we should at least give him the chance. Maybe being dead has changed him?"

Klaus swallowed the impulse to inform him that no, people did not change after death. It was so like Luther to hold on to the thinnest thread of hope, still holding out for some sign that their father had loved them. Klaus himself wasn't aware of any real specifics of the dilemma at hand- just about missing money, shady investments, that sort of thing. Not at all relevant to his interests.

Diego sighed. "Let's keep it simple and quick, yeah? I'm not exactly enthused to see the guy."

Every sibling nodded their head in agreement, which is how Klaus knew, beyond the shadow of doubt, that this was about to blow up in their collective faces. A unanimous vote had never, _ever_ boded well for the team. But he kept this to himself in an uncharacteristic display of tact. He supposed he too was wary about the endeavor. Instead, he reached for the bowl of ash, figuring enough time had passed for cooling.

To the bowl, he tapped out a few fragrant drops of myrrh oil into the ash, using his forefinger to combine the mixture. Then he stood, knees clicking as he did so, and shuffled over to Luther. His brother tilted his head up at him, eyes closed. Klaus rubbed the sooty paste between his fingers to warm it, before reaching down and painting a small sigil on his brother's forehead, like a priestess anointing an acolyte. In theory, it was supposed to be ouroboros, the endless cycle of life and death. In practice, it was a lopsided open circle, with blackened oil trailing down the bridge of Luther's nose. _Eh, close enough._ He repeated this ritual with the others. 

"Alright, it's gonna take a few minutes to get this party on the road. Think about Dad. Or don't. I wouldn't mind if it just goes to voicemail this time." Klaus returned to his seat between Diego and Luther.

Barely half a minute had passed before a sudden chill swept up Klaus's spine, his eyelids fluttering as a shudder made its way up from his feet. His body always seemed to know before his conscious mind did. Sure enough, the faint sound of whispering came a moment later. His siblings had all fallen silent as soon as they'd noticed the still lines of Klaus's body.

In his gut, he could feel the otherworld as it shifted and settled, overlaying onto his own world like a double image merging to form a picture in a new dimension. It felt like full-body hypnosis. He focused on the sounds of whispering, trying to remember the exact timbre of his father's voice. Absently, he stared at the flame of the central candle until it seemed as though it was growing and flickering with his breathing. Slowly- all though the passage of time was indiscernible in this state- he envisioned the silhouette of his father's form, imagining himself lending physicality to the memory.

There was a gasping jolt from Klaus's physical surroundings, and he came back to the present instinctively. Reggie, exactly as he'd remembered him, was standing, tall and imposing, over the candle in the center of the circle.

 _Goddamnit_ , Klaus thought. He'd really hoped that his father wouldn't answer the call. It had been extraordinarily easy this time- he'd honestly thought a lot more theatrics would ensue before he could pull their father over.

"Heeeey, Dad," he mumbled out flatly. Reggie appeared to take note of his new surroundings, snapping his attention to Klaus.

"Number Four. I see you've taken a break from debasing yourself. I hadn't expected it would take so long."

The quickness with which his father could launch back into emotional abuse was truly astounding. The familiar beginnings of a tension headache made themselves known at the base of Klaus's skull. Beside him, Diego stiffened with indignation on his behalf, and so Klaus attempted to exhale his irritation.

"Yes, hello Papa. I'm doing quite well, thanks. And yourself?" The words were directed to the back of the room as Klaus zoned out at a bit of smoke blooming from an incense thurible.

"Manners, boy! Look at me when you address me!" 

"No," Klaus refused before he could process the instinctive reaction. It was like he was fifteen again.

Reggie lunged forwards into a bend, dropping a hand to grab at Klaus's jaw, turning it towards him forcefully. Klaus's gaze drifted over to his father's, slowly. There were certain parts of himself that immediately got shut away when in the man's presence. It made him a bit hollow. This whole endeavor had been a mistake. Beyond his father's body, the rest of Klaus's siblings were staring in various states of apprehensive shock.

"Your willfulness is unbecoming, Number Four. I expected more docility from my inverted son."

Klaus blinked several times, unpacking that statement several times over in the span of a second. He resisted the impulse to reach up and wipe the lipstick off of his mouth.

"Wow. This is somehow going worse than I could have ever predicted," Klaus instead mused. Diego was a flash out of the corner of his eye.

"Get. Your fucking hand. Off of him." Diego growled somewhere to his side. Klaus couldn't turn his head in the grip.

"Cease the histrionics, Number Two." Reggie released Klaus, who rubbed his jawbone. "Your brother is fine."

Diego had one hand on Reggie's sleeve, one hand around a knife. "Don't touch him. Don't touch any of us."

Reggie sighed as though Diego was overreacting, standing back up and pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. Klaus felt relief as he moved away.

"Very well." He turned to survey the room, stilling when he spotted Five. "Number Five?"

Five didn't respond. He was staring up at their father with an expression of dread and abhorrence. It didn't matter. Reggie continued without Five's input.

"Well, it's apparent that your endeavor to jump time against my instruction did not go according to plan." Their father looked almost pleased with himself.

"Holy shit," Five whispered like he was just coming into some great revelation. "You're a _bastard._ "

A long silence followed the statement before Luther cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Dad."

Reggie turned to him expectantly. Luther cleared his throat again.

"We found a few, uh, offshore accounts of yours." At this, Reggie's gaze became sharp. "They seemed to be linked to foreign arms trade?" Luther's tone trailed off here, waiting for their father to dispute the claim. When he didn't respond, Luther continued.

"Um. So. That's not- great. We should-," Luther shook his head here, obviously not having anticipated the conversation getting this far. Shit, Klaus thought. If Luther didn't know how to talk to Dad, they were all totally fucked. "Where exactly is that money going?" There was a pause before their father replied.

"Yes, well, I invested heavily in innovative medical technology. A few of those brilliant researchers were beyond the reach of our government's budget. There's no need to worry yourself, Number One."

"O-kay," Luther began hesitantly, and Klaus gave him an encouraging nod. "But, you didn't really answer my question," he finished slowly. 

"What question, Number One?" Their father practically guffawed. "I just told you- the money is invested in medical research."

"Alright," Luther was sitting up straighter now, the lines of his body cautious, and absolutely not disarmed. They all noticed the shift in their leader's behavior. Beside Klaus, Diego fidgeted, coiling himself to spring to Luther's aid. "Except that you're lying right now," Luther continued, tone even, designed to de-escalate conflict. "I recognize the company shareholders. You've sent me after a few of them multiple times."

This information was a swift jab to the solar plexus, and Klaus glanced at the rest of his siblings. It was apparently news to them as well. _Oh goddamnit, Luther_. Their brother had always imparted information on a need-to-know basis. For a long time, Klaus had thought it was because Luther relished being their father's right hand. And while that was probably true, he was also coming to understand that Luther kept secrets to protect his siblings from the burden of responsibility.

"Dad. Who are you paying to make bio-weapons?" Luther looked exhausted even as he asked.

Klaus blinked. _What the absolute fuck was happening right now?_ Their father didn't move, hands still resting in his pockets, leaning back like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Number One," he chided gently, "Do you trust that I would only ever act in the best interests of the academy? I know it's hard now, with me being gone," their father's tone was deceptively compassionate- exactly what Luther was susceptible to. Klaus knew then exactly how this was going to play out. Their father continued, "I left a few things in place to protect you all. Who put this concern in your head? Number Two, I expect?"

Beside him, Diego made a small noise in the back of his throat. Klaus grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaping across the circle at their father. There was a long pause, during which they watched Luther slowly lean away from their father, his frown deepening. 

"Why are you were always making me chose between you and them?" Luther asked quietly, _so quietly_ , while gesturing to the rest of his siblings. "That's not fair. You're already holding all the cards."

Klaus inhaled sharply. This was an insight he'd never expected to come from Luther himself. As if to underscore its surprising nature, Reggie's eyebrows raised.

"No one is making you choose, Number One-"

Luther cut him off, the volume of his tone increasing. "Yes, you are. You always do this. You isolate us, pit us against each other so that you can keep control. It's exactly what you've done to Vanya," Here, Luther flung an arm out towards the sister in question.

"Oh, thank god," Klaus muttered. "I was afraid this wouldn't get any worse."

"Number Seven?" Reggie was perplexed. Vanya sat stock still as all eyes turned onto her. She resembled a trapped, wild animal. Still, she tilted her trembling chin up.

"I've stopped taking the meds," she said simply, letting the statement speak for itself.

Klaus had never seen the expression of fear on his father. At first, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. 

"Number Seven." There was a minute tremble in his voice. "It is _imperative_ that you continue to medicate yourself. I will not tell you again."

Vanya was biting her lip, clearly waring with the prospect of going head-to-head with their father. "How could you let me live like that? I was the outsider in my own family. My entire life has been shaped by that isolation." 

"Yes, the consequences of our past have been unfortunate," Reggie conceded. "I was only trying to prepare you all for your greater purpose." His tone had become lofty, and Vanya's eyes were becoming narrowed.

" _Greater purpose?_ " Vanya hissed out. "You kept me drugged from the time I was a child. All those emotional touchstones kids have as they grow? I never got those. My entire life is a grey fog." Her body was taut and trembling like a string on her violin. "Thirty years. Thirty years of being alone, and it all ended up being for nothing." 

"You killed four of your caretakers, Number Seven. You needed to be controlled." Reggie's tone was callous and unrelenting. 

"Then you should've made me deaf," Vanya shuddered out, her eyes cold and flat with fury. The knickknacks on nearby shelves began to clatter away, then suddenly halt as she caught herself. Klaus could feel his pulse quicken. His sister was truly a force of nature.

"Control yourself, Number Seven. You're worthless without control."

Klaus's eyes widened. He watched how Vanya fixated on the word 'worthless,' the very sound of it propelling her rage up a notch. The directionless movement about the room returned. The air itself undulated with Vanya's exhales. Around him, his siblings were moving to their feet.

"This is precisely why I medicated you, Number Seven," Reggie continued, and Klaus wondered if their father had a death wish. Well, no- he was already dead. Klaus wondered if their father had a death wish on the rest of his children. Judging by the way he refused to give Vanya peace, it was quite possible. 

"Stop talking," Vanya rasped out, her rough tone edged with a plea.

Reggie raised his voice above the heightened ambient volume. "What was I to do? You were danger to the rest of the team, to everyone around you." 

Vanya dug her fingers into her palms, bowing her head under the weight of her shame and rage. 

"Klaus." Ben's voice cut through the noise, steel and commanding. "Get him out of here."

Klaus scrambled into the circle, scattering salt crystals across the floor as he reached for the pillar candle. He pulled it into himself like lifeline, blowing out the flame with a short exhale. The image of their father flickered out of existence immediately, the sound his ranting sharply cut off. The cloudy fullness of being inhabited by two dimensions gave away to the startling clarity of returning to a single one. 

Around the room, furniture and knickknacks settled back into the night's silence. Wooden floorboards from the ceiling above creaked, protesting having been nudged by force of Vanya's anger. The quiet that pervaded afterwards was nearly tangible in its intensity. Klaus lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Diego was sat beside him, arms folded, gently running a thumb back and forth on the edge of a blade, daring it to cut. Luther had lumbered over to Vanya, putting a hand on her shoulder, letting her throw her tiny body against his massive frame and sob. Alison crawled over to the two of them, deep, sad exhaustion pulling at every movement of her body. Five was staring blankly into the empty circle, and Ben was leaned back against the wall by his side. 

Strangely, although Klaus didn't feel sad per say, he could feel the hot sting of tears as they hit the pinna of his ears, rolling straight down the sides of his cheekbones. Conjuring the dead was physically exhausting. Conjuring their father was emotionally draining to boot.

A small part of Klaus felt responsible for the state of his siblings. After all, he'd been the one to call forth their father, to throw them all back into the chaos of distress and abuse, if only briefly. He should have known better. Once again, he felt foolish for having hoped otherwise. 

"Wow. All of that in just seven minutes," Five announced tiredly. "Did anyone get _any_ useful information out of that?"

"Yes," Luther informed him. "I need to you to help me with something in the morning."

"Oh, wonderful," Five groused. There was a beat. And then:

"Griddy's?" Alison asked into the tense silence.

"Oh, god bless. Yes," Klaus replied gratefully, letting Diego haul him up off the floor. Alison busied herself by flitting about the room, blowing out the remaining candles. "Let's go repress this trauma and eat our feelings."

"I'm ready to cope with some double jelly-filled's," Diego agreed. 

"Reapply your lipstick, asshat," Five called back to Klaus as they shuffled out the door. "You look ridiculous."

**Author's Note:**

> Might continue this, not entirely sure yet! Comments are king.
> 
> Writing playlist:  
>  _Marionette_ \- Keep Shelly in Athens  
>  _Immigrant Song_ \- SOAK  
>  _bury a friend_ \- Billie Eilish  
>  _I See I Say_ \- Ebony Bones  
>  _We Want More_ \- Keep Shelley in Athens  
>  _Me and The Devil_ \- Soap&Skin  
>  _Body Electric_ \- Lana Del Ray
> 
> (TUA Make... on spotify)


End file.
